


Bonfires, Alcohol, and Smiles

by Kawaiicoyote



Category: Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: Bonfire, F/M, Implied Relationships, Implied Scallison, Not quite Omega, Pack Feels, Peter is adorable, Peter is kind of a loner, Peter is oddly unaffected with being that close to fire, Pre-Relationship, Underage Drinking, fluffy feels, implied sterek, indirect kissing
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-12-14
Updated: 2012-12-14
Packaged: 2017-11-21 02:29:58
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 600
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/592443
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Kawaiicoyote/pseuds/Kawaiicoyote
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>It’s peaceful he thinks, the controlled chaos. The way the pack dances around the fire that crackles and sparks and bathes them all in a soft orange and yellow glow.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Bonfires, Alcohol, and Smiles

**Author's Note:**

> Did I mention I suck at titles?  
> I have a lot of Pydia feels.  
> Kayla shares these feels with me and knows how it feels.  
> They are overwhelming.
> 
> I am an alpha without a beta. or aka this is unbeta'd and all mistakes are mine  
> unlike teen wolf, which is not mine, and i do not own.

The fire blazes in the middle of the woods, in the middle of the reserve. Peter lounges on a fallen log that has long since been used as a bench.

The entire pack is there, none paying any particular attention to him. He prefers it that way. To be left alone, but still included in their festivities.

He sips on a beer, pretends to not notice all the underage drinking or the fact that he is the oldest person there.

It’s peaceful he thinks, the controlled chaos. The way the pack dances around the fire that crackles and sparks and bathes them all in a soft orange and yellow glow. The way his nephew tries to communicate with the hyperactive teenager with the peach fuzz hair. Peter lets himself smile; glad his broken nephew has found someone to chase away their family’s demons.

He takes another sip of the bitter alcohol and shifts forward on the makeshift bench until he’s seated on the cold forest floor, his back snug against the rotted wood of the fallen tree.

He lets his head fall back and he lets out a long breath and watches the new snow fall from the sky, blinking only when the frozen water clings to his eyelashes. He wonders when the last time it was that it snowed in Beacon Hills only to not remember, but is glad for it now.

When she plops down next to him he’s startled out of his staring contest with the sky. Lydia gives him a smile and snatches the hardly touched beer bottle from his loose grip and takes a dainty sip for herself.

He finds himself staring at her. Finds he loves the way her hair is messy from the wind. Loves the way her face is flushes from the cold and from how she’s spent all night dancing around the fire with Allison and Erica. He loves how even in just a borrowed red hoodie from stiles and a pair of jeans she’s completely put together, effortlessly.

But what he loves most of all, is how he no longer smells fear directed towards him. How in its place he smells the lovely scent of warm vanilla and spring. A scent that is completely Lydia and he thinks he will never get enough of it.

It surprises him when she bumps shoulders with him and hands his drink back to him. Once it’s in his hand she stands and brushes the dirt and snow from her jeans and goes back to where Allison is changing songs on her ipod.

Peter can’t help but watch her. The way she moves, almost unconsciously, to the new music that fills the air. He can’t help but feel like a deer caught in the headlights when she suddenly turns her head and looks right at him and gives another, albeit genuine, smile.

He smiles back at her and for a moment he wonders if the fire is playing tricks on his eyes when he sees a blush deepen on her rosy cheeks before she turns back to the other girls.

When he raises his drink to his mouth and their gazes meet again he’s proved it was no trick of the light. She watches him take a long sip of the bitter liquid and he watches her when he licks his lips and suddenly tastes the strawberry of Lydia’s lip-gloss.

Later when she sits beside him again they say nothing. And when her cold hand finds his moments later they still say nothing, but Peter laces his fingers through hers and doesn’t let go.

 

 

**Author's Note:**

> comments and kudos are mana for my soul.  
> and I'll love you forever if you leave them.


End file.
